Desire
by SkeletonTea
Summary: Desiring was a tragic fate for the both of them. Charles realizes that maybe it just wasn't meant to be. My take on what happens after the CS. Spoilers.


_**To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves.**_

_**-**____**Federico García Lorca**_

It had been a week since they had returned to Downton. The season had been quite a success and the members of the staff were finally settling down from all the excitement. Since the day at the beach it felt to Elsie as if the topic of gossip was instigated towards her. She was not the sole individual of the crude rumors. Charles Carson was, of course, her partner in the whole dilemma.

_Do you think they'll marry?_

_I reckon they've been flouncing about for years._

_What if they are __**involved**_?

And over the week they had seem to get far worse and indefinitely more obscene. She would say nothing though; she would back away from the doors and walk on. What people thought of her, or them for that matter, was entirely their opinion. What they spoke of was a raw cleansing. Like a sheet being quickly removed from a bed.

Elsie was sure they didn't mean to harm her but, if they knew what their opinions meant to her… Believing that the servants only saw her and Mr. Carson as poor old fools was hurtful. To love someone and it all be perceived as a joke was the most painful thing she had ever experienced. Maybe it all was a joke. To love a man that was so conserved, with walls built around him like armor. She knew she would be walking on treacherous land the day she openly flirted in the attempts to shed him of those walls. She removed those layers one by one, revealing a glimmer of hope from the way he clutched her hand. It was a milestone in their liaison.

They waded into the sea together and it was marvelous.

When they had returned from the day at sea he seemed to back away slowly. He cowered from her and practically ran when he saw her. Obviously he was terrified of what he did at the beach. Never in any of his days had Charles Carson showed more affection than what he did that day. It wasn't him, he wasn't like that. He was not some fool that would crumble at the mere sight of a woman; he would never succumb to such frivolous meanings of the heart. Showing such sentimentally was a sign of weakness, something that Carson carried none of.

She had argued to him about his behavior in his sitting room one night. She had barged in with a stern expression set on her face, the lines setting and her lips smoothed in a fine line. He hadn't expected her to be so forward in showing her feelings on the subject.

"I understand that what we did was highly improper and not something that you shall cherish for the days to come but, I can't stand the thought of you not talking to me." She huffed.

He stared at her in utter shock. She slouched against the door frame as if what she had just said was a great feat. Her dainty hand clutched her opposite hip in order to have something the hold on to. Charles gazed at her face, the room was dimly lit and he could see the dark circles beneath her eyes. Her eyes (which reminded him so much of the clear water on that day) were stormy with fear. Of course, her teeth bit harshly down on her pink lips, something that showed him she was fragile. He didn't fail to see her slight shiver as he looked at her so intently.

He gestured for her to sit but she declined with a shake of her head. With that, he stood and he made his way around his desk so he could lean upon it. His hands gripped the sides of it for support. She was so beautiful tonight, and what he was about to say was so unbearably hard to speak he would fear that his own conscious would betray him.

He stared at the floor, waiting; waiting for his mouth to open and for something, anything, to come out. His dry throat felt swollen and his lips were parched. Slowly he tongue darted out the wet them. Her sharp intake of breath broke him from his reverie and he stared once again. He could see the desire in her eyes, for him. Her cheeks became a lovely shade of red and her short breaths were quite distracting.

God, he wanted her as well.

He wanted her so badly it hurt.

"Mrs. Hughes," He started his imminent speech.

Already her eyes filled with tears, she knew what was to come.

"My reason for taking your hand is far from simple, I cannot fathom why I did it and apologize." He said.

She stared at the wall to the right of her, her hand stroking the peeling paint. He could hear the loud click of her swallow.

"The air was too thin; I don't remember what I was doing." He muttered, "I… The wind was far too salty I assume that the temperature was exceeding ninety degrees under all my clothing, I-"

She stopped his incessant ramblings and turned to face him, her eyes shone with unshed tears.

"It seems to me that the events that happened that day were solely based on the weather." Elsie's eyes pleaded with some reasoning that showed some kind of feeling.

"Precisely."

She looked at him one last time and with small sorrowful smile she left.

"Oh Anna, I forgot to ask you." Lady Mary said as she dabbed perfume on her pulse points. "How was your day at the beach?" She smiled with an earthy glow and turned to see her maid lay out her evening dress.

"Rather eventful it seems m'lady." Anna smiled and returned to arrange Lady Mary's hair.

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Well, I don't mean to sound like I'm intruding but-"

"Anna?" Lady Mary's eyes widened at the prospect of fresh gossip.

"It just that Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes seemed to have quite a better time than the rest of us." Anna curled the delicate hair and smiled once again. Mary gazed into the mirror with a look of utter awe.

"And?"

"They held hands m'lady." Anna blushed at this and felt quite unfaithful for talking about them in such a way. It wasn't as if they deserved to be treated like they were under constant inspection.

"Carson and Mrs. Hughes, are you sure? Sounds nothing like Carson" Mary huffed and pulled on the long black silk gloves. She curled hands in disgust, not at the prospect of them together, but the thought that she could be closer and closer to losing her most valued confidant. Carson was like another father to her and if he were to be romantically involved, _especially_ with Mrs. Hughes, it would cause a problem. Selfish as that may sound it was true.

"It was quite romantic. They waded into the sea holding hands." Anna replied to the woman's horrid comment with not a trace of feeling. She would not want to show her hurt at Lady Mary's comment.

"I shall have to talk to him about it," Mary smiled. "Get all the details."

"Knock, knock." Her sweet voice filled the small room and she walked into the room with ease. He raised his gaze from the ledgers and immediately stood.

"No, please," Lady Mary waved for him to sit back down but he refused. She glided across his pantry to a large plush chair. When she sat herself down and was comfortable he sat with her.

"What can I help you with m'lady?" He said in a solemn baritone voice.

"I've been hearing some gossip roaming around the halls." She stated with a slight smirk. Mary saw his face fall and it broke her heart slightly.

"Gossip, m'lady?" He stated with a slight trace of sadness. At this she seemed to regret what she was here to do.

"About you and Mrs. Hughes, funny as it may seem."

Carson sighed and ran a hand over his face in a fluid motion, rubbing his tired eyes. He looked worn down and broken, she noticed.

"And what was this piece of gossip if I may ask?" He had forgone formalities. He had no intention of enjoying what she was about to say. They would be words of disappointment and he just couldn't seem to bear it at the moment. Charles was still mulling over the events of the night where him and Mrs. Hughes spoke of the damn day.

She noticed his eyes were heavy and his mouth had been set in a stern frown. The bags beneath his eyes showed her that he was not sleeping lately. For the first time she could see how he had aged, his body was slouching in the wood chair; she saw how his hands were beginning to wrinkle and how he was losing his energy as the days passed. For the first time she had seen the man behind the stage. She was staring at Mr. Carson, not just Carson. And she regretted ever coming in the first place.

"Actually." She stated and rearranged herself in the great chair. "May I give you some advice?"

How on earth could she kick him while he was down? He had obviously been tormented between the whole situation of holding hands and it was eating him alive. She had known Carson since she was a child and he would always be quite clear about how he valued propriety but more importantly, how he despised change. He had taken that woman's hand in hopes of change and how could Mary take that away from him? Whatever the cost she would support him. She was foolish to do anything otherwise. After all, the times Carson had helped her through her grief was too many to count.

"If you believe it may help then, yes, m'lady. I would appreciate your advice."

"A long time ago when you had fallen ill, I visited you. We discussed Matthew and you had given me some wonderful advice. Do you remember that day?" She gazed at him, the way his facial expression had changed when he remembered what she was referring to. "You told me that if I truly loved Matthew that I should tell him, consequences be damned." Mary smiled a quaint smile at the fond memory.

"I believe my words were different but yes, I remember." Carson's smile appeared, even though it was quite small.

"If you love her, Mr. Carson." Mary said hesitantly. "Don't you think you should follow your own advice?" He sighed and returned his gaze to the ledgers in front of him. He thumbed the corner of the book, rubbing the coarse paper between his fingers. Carson's brows furrowed into a harsh line.

With that as her last remark she left the suffering man in peace.

It was nearing midnight and he had not seen her leave her sitting room. He had been pacing his pantry with the door open, hoping she would walk pass and he could catch her at the last moment. Charles hands were sweating and he rubbed them nervously against his trousers. For the life of him he could not find the courage to go speak to her. Running his hand through his hand he broke apart the slick strands letting the curls reform. He had taken the liberty of removing his coat and unbuttoning his waistcoat. It was far too hot for his livery anyways.

He groaned audibly and kicked the chair in front of him.

"Is everything alright, Mr. Carson?"

He whirled around to see her. Her hair had seemed to fall around her face, the strands brushing her cheeks. Her lips were a deep red, no doubt from her incessant biting, they seemed to plump from her harsh treatment. Swollen. He coughed to try and cover his lingering gaze.

"Yes, I'm perfectly fine."

Her eyes traveled his scruffy frame. She could tell that he was stressed over something. He was _far _from fine. The shadow of his beard, the flexing fingers, the scuffed shoes from his pacing were all hints of his behavior.

"If you insist, I think I'll retire for the night." She made her move to leave him but, with a quick step he was by her side grasping her hand within his.

"If you don't mind I would like to discuss something with you."

She sighed and gazed pensively into his pantry, "Only for a minute."

Elsie stepped inside the small room and heard his close the door behind him. He made no move to leave his place by the door, so she stood in the middle of the room awaiting his tale.

"I've told you some untrue things," He started. "I stated multiple reasons for me taking your hand at the beach but the fact is that I am in love with you." Charles paused and stared at her for a brief moment. She was clutching the chair that Lady Mary had sat in that day to give him advice. Her mouth was open and she couldn't help but falter with her words.

"I love you very much, Mrs. Hughes." He said again. At this she gasped and covered her mouth.

He stepped forward to take that hand within his. Turning it over he kissed the inside of her wrist and whispered "If I ever caused you pain, I apologize whole heartedly. And I apologize now for any pain I may cause you in the future." He picked up her other hand and repeated his actions on the other.

Lacing his fingers with hers he steadied her. It was her that needed a hand to hold, not him, this time.

"I don't understand." She muttered quietly. "You told me-"

"I know what I said."

"Why did you lead me on? You know we have no chance." Her lips quivered at the prospect. The pain to love this man was becoming unbearable for her heart. It ached and felt like it was about to burst with joy and sorrow.

Charles took her chin between his finger and thumb, turning her towards his own face.

"Chance is only luck. We do not need luck for what I intend." And with that he kissed her with all his passion. He cupped her face and slipped his hands in her hair. It was right.

If he could stay in this moment forever he would.

He felt her skim her hands up his chest tenderly. When he felt her tears he backed away in sharp escape.

"I apologize." He said. "I didn't mean to hurt you." His body turned from her and ran his hands along his desk.

Her tears fell freely now. Gasping for air she tried to find a reason to stay.

"The cruelest thing of all is false hope." She muttered as she wiped the tears from her face. Inhaling deeply she shook her head at his actions. In a way it was comical she understood what they meant all along, what the teasing was all for. It _was_ a joke. Because she knew that every time he took one step ahead he always took two steps back. It was inevitable that their relationship would end on a note like this.

"I'll say goodnight." She passed him and made her way to her cold bed.

"Goodnight, Mrs. Hughes." He said as he sat down at his desk, once more.

This is how it was always going to be. They were never going to reconcile after the event of tonight. Now he would devise a plan to make her understand that he had far too much wine, that he was sleep deprived. Anything to tell her that it wasn't what he meant to say, his love was supposed to be concealed forever. So, as he leaned back into the worn chair he came to terms with the fact that loving her was not something that was possible. He would walk these halls with an empty heart and he would never again let her fill it. Because she was nothing more than something to desire.

That's all she could be.

**An: It's 5:21 in the morning and I'm still up. I am not going to be able to get up on Monday. So I just threw this together. I was taking a break from Ship of Dreams and this idea popped to mind. I'm too tired to proofread anything so if there is something wrong just tell and I'll fix it when I wake up. Anyways I hope you enjoyed! **


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